Janine
by Natasha Shaitanova
Summary: Ginny's childhood is not picture perfect. Fifteen years after the nightmare began, her only confidante finally tells the story. When love and abuse mingle, it's hard to tell them apart...Contains non-con and related, but nothing graphic.
1. Chapter 1

Janine

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Janine

By Natasha Shaitanova

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Disclaimer: I don't own _Harry Potter_ and I don't own Bushido lyrics.

A/N: Just to clarify, the epilogue does not exist and Ginny returns to her seventh year in Hogwarts after the war. After that, everything is fair game.

Oh and NO character death. Just so you don't misinterpret things too early ;)

Nothing graphic either, even though it's M.

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_es war mal ein mädchen,_

_sie war etwas frühreif,_

_und sie macht es einem warm ums herz wie glühwein, _

_sie war noch jung, ihr name war Janine_

_mama war da, doch er hat gewartet bis sie schlief _

_there was once a girl_

_she was somewhat immature_

_and it made a heart warm as mulled wine_

_she was still young, her name was Janine_

_mama was still there, but he waited until she was asleep…_

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…I don't know if I really have a right to tell you her story, but the question of ethics has been eluding me for years now. Maybe somewhere along the line it ceased to matter. It's hard even for me to consider those abstract theories when I'm faced with the reality they seek to divine. Oh, they know nothing. Those exalted philosophies, so strict and righteous, fall short when confronted with her reddened, accusing eyes.

Her final letter arrived early yesterday. She must have been anxious or tired or injured because her writing was barely legible. Or maybe those were just my eyes playing tricks as I nearly fell into despair.

She called it her secret and she made me swear on all I held dear never to tell it. It was our secret from the world. Every day, I wondered if I should break the promise – all in the name of the greater good. But such a thing would have been worth it, surely?

She called me a good friend, but perhaps I was simply a coward. And now, now that it is too late and my words won't bring a glimmer of change, I will sit down and record her story. Is it true? Mostly. Is it accurate? Well, I sure hope so. Will it carry a deep, meaningful moral for literary critics to ponder over in the night? Don't be naïve. Morality has nothing to do with the story I am about to tell.

I hope you won't read this brief manuscript, Ginny. I hope you never lay your eyes on it. You would never forgive me if you did.

But the world has to know. Maybe not in our lifetime, maybe decades from this day, maybe never at all…but this tale won't stay unwritten. I respect you more than that.

I dedicate this to you, my dearest friend, and I hope that someday, unknowingly, you will forgive me my weakness.

-Hermione Granger

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Ginny sniffled miserably as she burrowed deeper into the covers, heedless of the blistering late-summer heat. She took another sip from her cup of tea and clumsily wiped at her runny nose.

"It's not fair, Daddy!"

Arthur chuckled from the bedside and took the teacup out of his daughter's hands as it came close to spilling. "You don't feel well enough to be out yet, baby."

"But I wanted to go out too!" Ginny pouted with all the famed mastery of a six-year-old. "I don't remember Die-Gon from last time…"

"Diagon, Ginny," Arthur corrected and handed her another tissue. "Mommy will take you another time, you know that."

"But why couldn't they wait for me to stop being all sniffly and tired?" Ginny yawned even as she continued protesting. "You should have made them wait for me, Daddy."

Arthur only smiled indulgently. "Your brothers need to get their school supplies, you know that. You can't tell them to start school later so you could go to Diagon!"

"You could…" Ginny's eyes shone with childish trust and enthusiasm. "You could make it happen."

"I'm not that powerful, baby." Arthur ruffled his daughter's hair, trailing his fingers through the soft strands. Ginny leaned willingly into the touch, smiling at the affection.

"I love you, Daddy. I know you could do it…"

Arthur patted her head one last time in response. "Sometimes things aren't so easy."

"What's wrong, Daddy? Are you sad?" Ginny frowned and crawled over the covers, curling up in Arthur's lap. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and craned her neck up, inquisitive.

"No, everything's fine, baby," Arthur smiled as he rubbed Ginny's back, his hands stilling as the pajama top bunched up. His fingertips touched the moist, feverish skin and felt it twitch in return.

"Oh do that again, Daddy." Ginny snuggled closer as she hummed in delight. "Your hands are all cool, it feels so good…"

Arthur slowly moved his hands up, under the pajama top, rubbing circles over the heated flesh. Ginny twisted around in his lap, trying to get comfortable, and his awareness slipped momentarily as he was lost in the sensations. The skin was so soft and pliable under his touch, the warm weight in his lap so gentle and alluring. He felt Ginny breathe out against his neck and he leaned down to kiss her forehead in return. It felt so scorching against his mouth.

"Daddy…daddy, that feels funny…" Ginny pulled back slightly, confused, as she tried again to shift in his lap.

Arthur vaguely noticed that his hands had slipped to the small of her back while his fingertips continued their massage under the pajama bottoms. Still caught up in the physical allure, he continued as the ministrations steadily grew more intimate.

Ginny dared not move as she bit her lip and tried to figure out why her father's comforting had taken such a strange direction. She trembled lightly and breath hitched, until she was clutching desperately at her father's shirt.

"Daddy, it doesn't feel so good…"

"It's okay, baby, I'll help you feel better. Don't you want me to make it up to you for missing the trip to Diagon Alley?"

"Yes…" Ginny mumbled as she winced at the awkward touches. For a wild moment, she wondered if her father was punishing her for complaining before. "Daddy, I promise I won't whine anymore…I promise, I really, really…"

The sniffle that accompanied the pleading words snapped Arthur out of his distraction. He pulled his hands back to rest them on Ginny's skinny hips and spoke gently as he rubbed little circles with his thumbs. "It's okay if you're upset about missing Diagon, Ginny. I'm not angry at you."

Ginny nodded into his chest, hiding her watering eyes. Her heart was beating rapidly and she tried to calm her shaking body, bewildered over her sudden distress. Still, Arthur must have noticed the wet drops on his shirt as he pulled her chin up to stare down at Ginny's flushed face.

"Oh, don't cry, baby. It's alright." Arthur smiled gently, his mind still reeling from their contact. He rubbed his thumb against Ginny's cheek before smoothing the digit over her chin and mouth. Ginny's lips parted involuntarily and she sat frozen as Arthur covered her mouth with his own. He briefly massaged her neck and pulled back, licking lightly at the lower lip as he went.

"Mommy never kisses me like that," Ginny mumbled as she stared at her white knuckles, mystified and anxious.

"That's because Mommy wants to treat you like the boys," Arthur hugged her tiny body closer. "But you are special, Ginny. You're different."

Ginny looked up with joyful surprise. "Really, Daddy?"

"That's right," Arthur smiled and kissed the tip of her nose. "You're special and you deserve special games."

"Ooh, I am going to tell Ronnie that I'm special and he's not when they come back!" Ginny giggled and relaxed into her father's hold.

"Oh, no, no," Arthur hastily interrupted. "We wouldn't want to make the others jealous, now would we? We won't be able to play our game anymore if they're jealous. They won't let you stay special, baby."

Ginny pouted, but it was in good humor rather than any sadness. The new game may have been a bit uncomfortable, but Daddy said it made her special. That alone made any discomfort worthwhile in Ginny's eyes. "So we have to keep it secret?"

"That's right, baby. It's our little secret."

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…When she first told me about this episode, I thought I would choke from all the anger I felt rising up inside of me. Either that or the bile. This was about a man I had seen every summer since I was eleven; a man I held in high regard as one of the kindest wizards to inhabit the prejudiced wizarding world. I felt physically sick after that first confession and I felt a crazy urge to run.

Of course, I did no such thing. It would have been a grave sin to abandon her as she took that tentative step forward, willing to divulge those forbidden memories that distorted her childhood. I simply hugged her then and we spent the night in the Gryffindor common room, staring into the dying fire. I could think of no worthy consolation.

I often wondered if that fateful August day truly was the beginning of her nightmare. Did it all begin so abruptly, so casually cliché? I hate to call a tragedy cliché, but I can think of no other word to describe the "secret game". Was he really so blasé? Was she really so complacent? Were there no warning signs in the preceding years, no slippery slope?

Maybe not every episode I call forth from my memory is accurate and maybe some details are my own imagination, but none of those things change the truth. The truth does not lie in the individual accounts I present here for your scrutiny; it lies in the collage of pain, fear, and love they represent.

For as long as I can remember, her life has been a maelstrom of those emotions, all blending into overwhelming confusion Her world was distorted and the doors were chained shut.

Ginny, Ginny…you ran too late. And now I am writing your story for you. These lines will bring me peace, but I can only hope that somewhere you will one day find yours.

-HG

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A/N: Oh, don't look so shocked. Shit like this happens, more often than we would like to think.

This will be a 5 to 7 chapter piece with fairly regular updates. Same general format, evolving over a span of 15 years.

**Please drop me a line with your impressions or complaints! There is nothing better than reviews for future improvement!**

**-NS**


	2. Chapter 2

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_Janine_

By Natasha Shaitanova

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Disclaimer: I don't own _Harry Potter_.

A/N: Not as quick of an update as I promised…Well, reviews are a motivating factor and since they haven't been the most encouraging…Ah whatever.

Slytherins kick ASS: No prob dude. It's not an easy topic ;)

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_es wird ihr alles zuviel _

_weil er es immer wieder macht _

_und genau wie jede nacht, kommt er auch in dieser nacht _

_du musst mir geben, was mir mama nicht mehr geben kann_

_it is too much for her_

_because he always makes it_

_just like every night, he is in the night too_

"_you have to give me what your mama no longer can"_

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"Ginny, go on upstairs, it's past your bedtime!" still laughing at someone's passing joke, Molly pushed her daughter toward the stairs before rejoining the festivities.

"But, Mommy! I want to stay and—" Ginny tugged at her mother's arm, eager to remain in the middle of the party. She tried to cover an involuntary yawn with her other hand.

"You won't be missing much, dear, just boring adult talk," Molly again shooed her out of the living room, this time checking that Ginny went to her room as instructed.

Ginny hummed to herself as she slowly climbed up the stairs, stumbling and hanging on the rails to drag out the process. With a final twirl on the second landing, she tumbled backwards into her room, singing softly. She quickly changed into her old pink pajamas and lay on top of the covers, altogether too awake.

Occasional bursts of laughter floated up from downstairs, accompanied by the telltale pop of a bottle being opened. It was her aunt's birthday and naturally the entire Weasley clan arrived to celebrate. Ginny had been on her feet since noon, caught up in the excitement, rushing between the various guests and trying to catch snippets of conversation. She still felt the pleasant buzz vibrating in her chest, but exhaustion was beginning to set in.

She couldn't tell how long she had lain awake, studying the wallpaper on the ceiling, before the sound of footsteps separated from the muted hubbub below. Deciding it was her mother coming to check that she was asleep, Ginny quickly rolled under the covers and squeezed her eyes shut.

As expected, her door creaked open moments later and Ginny could feel the mattress dip down next to her thighs as the visitor sat down. She lay still as her covers were adjusted around her chin, but she couldn't help but tense when a hand slipped into her hair, lingering on the nape of her neck.

Ginny continued to feint sleep as Arthur shifted above her, leaning on his elbow to bend down and breathe lightly against her cheek. She could smell hard alcohol and it made her stomach turn. It was too strong.

Arthur must have seen her nose wrinkle because he laughed lightly and traced a finger over her jaw line. "Wake up for me, baby."

Ginny knew by then how the game went and didn't dare disobey. She looked up at her father, somewhat startled to find him so close. "I'm awake, Daddy."

"Good, good…" Arthur leaned down into a kiss, brushing aside the covers at the same time. His movements were sloppy and sluggish as he fought inebriation.

Ginny parted her lips immediately, knowing that her father liked it. She winced around the kiss as the bitter taste of alcohol flooded her senses, but forced herself not to turn away. In her distraction, she did not notice Arthur tugging at her pajamas.

"So sweet, so sweet…" he mumbled incoherently, placing wet, sloppy kisses over her cheeks and jaw. Making quick work of the pajamas, he moved his attentions lower.

Ginny buried her face sideways into the pillow, letting silent tears stain the fabric. The game had not gone this far before and she began trembling in fear as he repeatedly stroked her inner thighs, forcing them apart.

"Daddy…"

"That's right, I'm your daddy…" Arthur found himself quickly bored with the undeveloped chest and moved back to Ginny's lips. "You're all mine…"

The following moments were a blur of random details mixed in a whirlwind of pain and Ginny bit through her lip in an attempt to stay silent. The party downstairs seemed like a remote world to her; a remote world who could never know their secret.

The sound of a zipper coming undone was her only warning before her entire fragile body was set on fire. The fire burned deep inside and Ginny sobbed desperately as it showed no signs of easing. She could hear heavy panting and did not know if it was her or her father. The pain was only mounting and finally her frame simply could not take the intrusion.

Ginny fainted into blessed, black oblivion, temporarily saved from the terror wreaking her bedroom. Arthur continued in his ecstasy as Ginny's loss of consciousness went unnoticed. He hung over bed for a few moments once sated, struggling to catch his breath.

At the sight of Ginny's comatose body, he was seized with a rage, stumbling backwards and away from the bloodied bed. He yanked the covers over her viciously before brutally grasping his own hair. Arthur grappled mentally against the drunken haze, but only ended up whinnying piteously as chunks of red and gray hair tangled in his fingers.

The scene was oddly interrupted by a clinking of glasses and a resounding cheer from the living room. The celebration carried on.

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…She was only eight then. Eight is so far, far too young to lose one's virginity that these words only make it sound more unbelievable. She told me she could hardly walk for a week afterward and so pretended to have caught a sickness from some guest at the party, giving her an excuse to stay in bed. I cannot imagine how she managed to fool Molly…both about the sickness and the bloodied sheets. Unlikely luck?

Ginny would not tell me about another specific incident from around that time, but she led me to understand that Arthur became only more…partial to her as she recovered quickly. Perhaps it's a logical psychological digression and perhaps it's simply sick, but Ginny began to draw an odd sense of satisfaction from the encounters. She told me that even as it hurt like death itself, she derived a certain sense of empowerment.

"He loved me," she said. "He loved me like he loved no one else, not even Mommy. It made me feel stronger…made me feel wanted."

I told her it wasn't love but I'm sure she'd deny it to this day. Yes, the man had completely fucked with her sense of love and there is no nicer way for me to say it. He had skewed her perception of love, of family…God, of any sort of relationship there can be!

I asked her once how someone who loves you could hurt you like that. She said it didn't matter, "he just has a different way of showing it." That was when I realized that I was months, no _years_, too late.

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The Hogwarts Express issued yet another warning bell and the steam from its engine clouded the station. Students and relatives of all ages rushed to and fro in their efforts to get one final goodbye in before the train set off.

The Weasleys stood crowded in one of the corners, with Molly bustling in the center. The twins had already managed to slip out of her grip and Harry and Ron had gotten lost in the excitement, but she retained a firm grip on Percy and Ginny. Finally, the elder sibling complained of loss of stature in front of his peers and trotted off to climb onto the train.

Molly wrapped Ginny in yet another embrace before taking her gently by the shoulders. "You'll be careful won't you? Not like your brothers, dear…"

"I've never been like them," Ginny huffed and looked at her shoes rather than face her mother. The subject carried too many fine linings and unsaid secrets.

"You'll be just fine, dear. Don't you worry," Molly smiled softly at her only daughter before giving her a quick kiss, as she used to when Ginny was younger.

This time, however, Molly pulled back shocked as she felt Ginny's lips part upon contact. Further baffled as Ginny casually waved goodbye and rushed to the train, Molly waved back distractedly, trying to wrap her mind around what had happened.

"She must have slipped, that's all," she gathered her giant purse and moved through the jostling crowd toward the exit. "Or someone bumped into her. Nothing more…"

Molly shook her head one final time and tried to forget the incident. Certainly, it was nothing…

Meanwhile, Ginny sat alone in one of the compartments toward the rear of the train, fidgeting with her sweater sleeve. She recalled her mother's startled expression when she left and only now did it hit her that the kiss had been the reason.

"Stupid, stupid," she chanted in her mind. "You know it's different with daddy, he's always said so…"

Her lips had parted automatically, a response she had gotten used to from the only other kisses she had received in the past few years. Ginny squirmed as she thought about how quickly her mother had pulled away, her expression distant with worry. No one was supposed to know. No one could know.

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A/N: This is kinda short…well, I'll be sure to make up for it as the story evolves and the scenarios become more complex ;))

**Please drop by a review if you're not too squeamish ;))**

Shaity out.


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